FicWad

13. Chinese Water Torture.

Gerard was awoken by something wet. His eyes fluttered open and the familiar ceiling, along with something else came into view. There was what appeared to be a bucket, held up by metal rods, directly above his head. The bucket was designed with a little crook, to make it so only drops of water would pour out of it.

The bucket swayed, staying upright momentarily, and then swaying downward as to give Gerard a drop of water that would land on his forehead every three or so seconds.

Gerard knew what this was. The classic chinese water torture. It was further confirmed when he looked down to see that he had been restrained on the bed by straps completely. He wondered how his captors managed to restrain him so without waking him up. Perhaps his body was finally to the point of being numb.

Well this wasn't so bad.

Was it?

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Gerard had never understood what could be that bad about a drop of water dripping on your forehead over and over. It's water, so it was not like it could hurt.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Gerard tried shifting around a bit, but the restraints were so tight, that he couldn't move a single inch. They were actually more worry some than the water. The ruff edges dug into his bare skin so much, he thought if he stayed in them long enough, they may eventually pierce him.

Okay. Well perhaps he could try returning to sleep.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He tried to close his eyes for a while. The water trickling down his face from the former drops of water was very cold. He eventually realized that sleep would not be possible with it present. He eventually just settled with staring at the ceiling.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

He tried to distract himself in other ways. Take his mind off the water. He could make it through this. It wasn't like they were going to leave him like this forever. He just needed to distract himself.

He thought of his band. Maybe some ideas for new songs.Or some ideas for a new concept album. Maybe this experience can give him ideas for a really dark album.

You're never going to play with them again.

Okay, better idea. Gerard tried to think of his family. His funny little Bandit.His beautiful wife. His awesome brother Mikey.

You're never going to see them again.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

How about art? Ideas for a new comic. Ideas for the killjoy comic -- that was a project he really needed to work on!

What are you going to draw on? The walls of this room? They're never letting you out. You're going to die here.

Okay. Maybe thinking wasn't such a good idea.

Perhaps he should sing.

Even if he couldn't play with his band, he could still sing. He loved singing by himself, even before the band. It was soothing, comforting. It was like giving himself a hug on a rainy day. He began to softly sing the beginning verses of Demolition Lovers.

"Hand in mine...into your icy blues...and then I'd say to you..."

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

What felt like hours passed. It must have been over a day of water tauntingly dripping onto him. He began singing the same songs over and over like a mad man. As repetitive as the bucket above him.Repeating the same verses like a broken record.

Eventually his voice broke. He wasn't sure at what point he stopped singing and started sobbing.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

~

Next chapter: "When the lights go out, will you take me with you? And carry all this broken bone, through six years down in crowded rooms, and highways I called home.."